Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Past Life Proclamation (2)
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Federback immediately convened a meeting of the vassal knights.
It was something unimaginable in the past.
The spoiled troublemaker who used to hole up in his room reciting poetry and doodling was now gathering the family's key figures in one place.
But no one looking at the current Federback thought that way.
Ever since he had climbed the snowy mountains alone and severed the heads of hundreds of orcs, all the knights of the house had acknowledged him deep in their hearts.
Federback spoke.
"The Furosange House has raised its banners in rebellion. We will subjugate them."
"I oppose."
Sir Dvorzak, the veteran knight, spoke up.
"The Furosange are nominal allies. Moreover, there's no proof they killed our soldiers."
"The cuts on the corpses were unmistakably Furosange handiwork."
"Didn't we cremate those bodies? The evidence vanished before we could even investigate."
"No need to investigate."
"...?"
Dvorzak tilted his head.
Federback said,
"I'm just going to go and smash them."
"Young Master, that is..."
"No need to worry. We have justification elsewhere."
Federback turned his head, and Rorschach brought in some documents.
She continued in a calm tone.
"The Furosange House's situation is similar to the Levarb House's recent fiasco. They've stopped paying tribute long ago and even skip courtesy visits. They fulfill none of a vassal house's duties. It wouldn't be strange for the lord house to hold them accountable."
"But they'll think our response is excessive. They might rebel, claiming we're blowing up the death of a single boy soldier."
Federback nodded at Dvorzak's concerned words.
"That very thinking will tighten the noose around their necks. One of my soldiers is worth more than thousands or tens of thousands of their knights."
"I still have many concerns, but..."
The veteran knight Dvorzak looked up after a long sigh.
His eyes were burning hot before anyone knew it.
"Hearing you, Young Master, even this fretful old man feels his blood boiling."
"Will you join me?"
"No need to ask. I am already your sword."
Led by Sir Dvorzak, all the knights nodded.
Whoosh!
Queenbits spread her hand.
Bark and leaves began sprouting from the wooden round table.
The uneven bark and buds soon formed a map.
It was the area bordering the Furosange territory.
Everyone let out short gasps of admiration at Queenbits' magic, which perfectly recreated the map on the wooden table's surface.
Soon, Federback pointed at the map with his finger.
"The attack site is also the border between Furosange and Levarb Houses. Outsiders and exiles wander there. The Furosange will probably blame them."
The jointly guarded border areas between houses were blind spots for surveillance.
Criminals exiled by the Empire or barbarian tribes from afar often nested there.
"No need to worry about the rabble. I'm heading straight to the Furosange House to take what I want and leave."
Legal disputes, peaceful talks.
Both required too much time.
But Federback had no intention of investing that much time in the likes of Furosange.
"War is inevitable."
Knots that law or words can't untie must be severed with the blade in one stroke.
At the word "war," the veteran knights of Meursault snorted fiercely.
"Finally found someone to sell grave plots to."
"Why so serious against Furosange trash? Just behead them and be done."
"Not my grave plot. Theirs. Heh heh heh."
"Haven't had work lately, so fat's piled up on my thighs. Time to slim down."
All of them were burly Northerners with boiling blood.
You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone fearing war, even searching from the training grounds to the kitchens.
Federback assembled an investigation team the moment he left the meeting hall.
Thirty-three knights, including Colonel Haundid, donned heavy armor and flanked him.
In less than five minutes, Federback rode out the castle gates.
With no special preparations—just a single sword and shield on his back.
Clop-clop—clop-clop—clop-clop—clop-clop—
Thirty-four horses crossed the snowy plains.
Sir Haundid looked at the map and said,
"The attackers fled toward the Furosange-Levarb border. Could the Levarb House be involved?"
"Possible. They'd want revenge on Meursault."
Federback answered indifferently.
Not long ago, the Levarb House had been utterly crushed.
Viscount Bargo, who had strutted so boldly, had been beaten to within an inch of his life by Federback and imprisoned in a remote tower. The new patriarch, Levarb's eldest son, was nothing but a puppet.
Federback said,
"Sneaky bunch like them probably schemed from the shadows. Having been smashed head-on before, they might be supporting Furosange from behind."
And that might not be all.
Furosange, Levarb, Modifica, Portofino, Daytona.
Once called the "Five Fingers of Meursault," now claiming to be the "Five Pillars of the North."
Vassal houses that despised their lord Meursault and eyed opportunities for usurpation—they all needed cleaning out at once.
"The Furosange House."
Federback recalled what he knew of Furosange.
A knightly house that favored daggers and bows as main weapons.
Less knights, more rangers, really.
Before his regression, they had steadily rebelled against Meursault.
The moment Meursault weakened, they betrayed openly, aiming to climb atop the ruins.
Their obstructions and audacity had left Meursault struggling for supply lines during the war, sometimes even falling victim to Furosange raids disguised as bandits.
"A leopard can't change its spots."
Federback spurred his horse toward the edge of the snowy plains.
Then.
"!"
Something appeared ahead.
A man on horseback approaching them.
Dressed in black, with a bow on his back.
"!"
He spotted Federback too.
He quickly wheeled his horse and fled.
Federback drew the sword from his waist.
Tzzzzz...
Mana flowed into the mithril hilt.
The mana cooled by the ice dragon's breath as it traveled up the blade.
And soon, frigid frost spewed from the tip.
Flash!
A liquid that held extreme cold yet didn't freeze shot out.
The liquefied mana curved like a crescent moon, slicing horizontally.
...Slash!
It severed one of the fleeing horse's hind legs.
Thud-crash—
The legless horse tumbled across the ground.
The black-clad man atop it was flung onto the ice.
Blood poured from his face, ground raw on the rough, uneven ice.
Federback rode up before him.
"What were you doing here?"
"Who the hell are you?"
The black-clad man lifted his broken forehead.
He ground his teeth and continued.
"I'm a Furosange scout. Attacking me means you won't get away scot-free..."
"This is Meursault territory. I'll ask again. What were you doing here?"
"..."
At Federback revealing his identity, the black-clad man just worked his mouth silently.
Finally, he said,
"Forgive my ignorance. I am a knight of Furosange..."
But he couldn't give his name.
Federback's sword had sliced off his ear.
"!?"
The man clutched his ear and collapsed.
The blade was so cold the cut froze over, staunching the blood.
The chill boring into his skull hurt more than the severed ear.
As the man groaned, Federback said,
"I didn't ask your identity. I asked what you were doing here."
"I-is this how Meursault's envoys act?"
"Envoys? Who said envoys?"
"...?"
The man's eyes widened at Federback's retort.
The Meursault knights beside chuckled.
"We're on our way to make war on you."
"Gonna kill you all and rip out your tongues."
"Burn your whole territory so not even an ant pup survives."
The earless man's face grew paler by the second.
Ranger.
Literally, "one who roams wide lands without staying in one place."
They were knights who didn't don heavy plate or greatswords typical of knights.
Light armor, bows, daggers—light gear for patrolling border military zones or monster-haunted areas.
Furosange's rangers were renowned for their skill.
The Meursault knights interrogated the captured ranger.
Brutal beatings and savage torture followed, but he refused to spill on Furosange.
"Heh heh heh—useless. Just kill me already."
The Furosange ranger laughed through his bloodied face.
A vein bulged on Sir Haundid's forehead.
"Laughs even after we pulled every nail and toenail. Next, teeth. Then eyes."
"Impressive. No mercy or morals in Meursault knights? No knightly honor?"
"I set aside my knighthood. Right now, I'm just a beast hunting prey."
"Heh heh heh—do your worst. I won't say a word."
The ranger turned away with a mocking sneer.
Then.
"Let me try."
Federback, who had silently watched, stepped forward.
Sir Haundid whispered in Federback's ear.
"Young Master. Furosange rangers are famous for their iron will. No tighter lips exist. As you saw, even our harsh torture didn't loosen them..."
"That's because."
Federback raised a hand, cutting Haundid off.
"You're all too gentle."
"?"
Haundid and the knights' eyes rounded.
Federback continued.
"I picked up some torture techniques somewhere... Anyway, let me handle it."
With that, Federback grabbed the ranger by the nape and dragged him into the coniferous forest.
The knights tilted their heads.
"Does the Young Master know torture?"
"His swordsmanship is peerless, but torture's a different skill..."
"Hmm—might just ruin the mood. I'm worried."
"Yeah. Furosange are tough; he won't crack. Better to kill him."
About five minutes passed.
Then.
Step—step—step—step—
Federback emerged from the forest.
The ranger still dangled from his grip by the nape.
But.
"Please... please... please let me talk. I'll tell you everything."
The ranger begged, tears, snot, and drool streaming down.
Federback shoved the Furosange ranger into the snow.
He rolled on the cold ice, pleading desperately.
"I'll tell you anything! Please! I can even tell you my wife's underwear color! Just don't do that again! Please just kill me, waaah—"
The Furosange ranger sobbed like a child.
Not a trace of his earlier defiance remained.
Federback said with his characteristic blank expression,
"I've asked what I needed. Ask him anything you're curious about."
"Uh... really?"
Haundid gaped in disbelief.
Soon, he asked the ranger,
"Di-did the Furosange House attack the Meursault convoy?"
"Yes! As I told you earlier, it was meticulously planned! The patriarch and heir ordered it directly. The orders were read and burned, so no evidence remains, but the twenty-nine comrades involved are still alive as proof..."
"You already told the Young Master that. What color?"
"Black until yesterday!"
"..."
The ranger wailed as he spilled everything.
Troop numbers and deployments, terrain, weather, fortress weaknesses—all of it.
Meanwhile, watching, Federback recalled his pre-regression days.
"Human methods are inefficient as expected. For torture, demons are best."
Federback had endured demon torture as a Demon King's army captive.
Compared to demons, human torture was child's play.
Demons inflicted direct pain on the soul, eroding pride and ego to the limit, ultimately collapsing the self.
Even Federback had nearly broken multiple times during those two months of brutality.
He'd lightly applied a few of the worst ones on the ranger, who spilled everything in just two minutes.
Soon, Federback mounted his horse.
"According to him, about an hour north. We might even meet the Furosange patriarch if we're lucky."
"...!"
Haundid and all the knights' eyes lit up.
A chance to face the enemy leader before war.
The excited knights mounted up one after another.
Then Federback drew his sword.
Peace finally settled on the ranger's face.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! For killing me...!"
After thrice voicing heartfelt gratitude, the ranger's head rolled across the ground.
Even headless, his face closed its eyes in bliss.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Haundid and the knights stared at Federback's back as he rode ahead.
It felt like a massive white mountain moving whole.
Who would believe that back belonged to a fifteen-year-old boy?